


Christmas Cookies

by ProsperDemeter



Series: 20 Days of Holiday Fics [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics)
Genre: Baking, Christmas Cookies, Established Relationship, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProsperDemeter/pseuds/ProsperDemeter
Summary: Tim and Kon bake cookies.That's literally all it is.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Series: 20 Days of Holiday Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035498
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	Christmas Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> Day five! 
> 
> This is terrible yikes.

There wasn’t any problem  _ persay _ . Tim had been to the Kent farm a dozen times or more within the last few years, and then a few times before that with Bruce to pick up Clark. He was  _ used _ to the Kent farm - he had helped with the animals, had fixed Ma and Pa Kent’s electronics more times than he could count, and the guest bedroom was practically his (and Bart’s… but Bart wasn’t there that particular weekend). Tim  _ liked _ the Kent’s. He respected, loved, and appreciated them. 

There wasn’t really a problem. 

Except Tim couldn’t bake. 

And Ma Kent had put him and Kon in charge of baking their annual holiday batch of cookies. 

Oh  _ god _ , this was going to end horribly. 

Tim wasn’t a baker. He could beat up bad guys left and right, could hold his breath for a ridiculous amount of time, he could hack the United Nations, had access to insane amounts of information. And Tim wasn’t an idiot, he knew he had an ego. He  _ knew _ he was brilliant, he knew he was one of the smartest people in the universe, knew just how clever, just how  _ genius _ he was. 

_ None  _ of that genius translated to  _ good at cooking _ . 

He was only panicking a little bit. 

Tim had  _ tried _ to do what he did best - he had spent most of his time that night (when he  _ should _ have been sleeping but, to be fair, when did Tim ever sleep) reading countless baking blogs, recipes, watching beginners tutorials on youtube. He had video chatted Alfred - and that man had the patience of a saint - and taken notes on all of the man’s best tips. When  _ that _ hadn’t felt like enough he had texted Jason for help and, after an hour or two of endless teasing on the older man’s end, had actually received an easy enough recipe to follow. 

Which seemed fail proof. He was good, he was good enough to pretend to be excited about it, he had a plan of attack and a recipe and endless blogs to walk him through what to do. 

It was all going to be great. 

Until Ma Kent threw a wrench into his meticulously planned cookie adventure by insisting they bake with her  _ specific _ , passed down for generations, missing a  _ few _ steps, recipe. 

Tim was back to panicking again.

Kon, who was much more perceptive than most people gave him credit for, had picked up on the subtle shift in Tim’s demeanor that showcased just how uncomfortable he was. “You don’t  _ have _ to follow Ma’s recipe.”  _ He _ was confident in the kitchen - to be fair, Kon was comfortable in most places. Kon, the tall, dark, and handsome to Tim’s short, scrawny, and angry, was fishing in the farm’s refrigerator, bum in the air and head ducked down so low it looked almost as though he were trying to climb inside of it to make himself his own Fortress of Solitude. Typically, Tim would enjoy the view - Kon was very attractive and very much  _ Tim’s _ to ogle. But at that moment? Oh no, at that moment Tim was busy staring down at the hand written recipe like it was an intricate bomb that R’as had hidden in a busy mall. “We can always do the one Jason sent.” 

One of Tim’s many ego problems was the fact that, once presented with a challenge, it was near impossible for him to throw in the towel and say  _ no more, please _ . He blamed it on his unconventional childhood. 

Not even the Batman, Bruce Wayne, Robin part. 

The Jack and Janet Drake, absent parents, eager for approval part. 

“She, uh… she wants these ones.” Tim tapped the paper that Ma Kent had slid over to him before leaving with a faux confidence that would have just made Dick sad. 

It was so fake. 

So very, very, obviously, fake. 

Kon,equipped with special Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne x-ray vision, fixed him with a look as he straightened, a carton of milk, a rather large container of butter, and several bags of chocolate chips cradled in his arms. “We can try?” Tim compromised because, after all, any good relationship was a relationship of compromises. 

Or was that about something else? 

Tim didn’t really know, the majority of the relationships in his life weren’t what most people would classify as  _ good _ .

"All right, Boy Wonder 3.0," Kon stretched his arms above his head and quirked a smile. "Let's get baking." 

Tim would like to reiterate - he was  _ terrible _ at baking. They were on their third batch of batter - the first one Tim added salt instead of sugar, on the second he elbowed Kon's soda into the batter - and the Kent Farm's kitchen looked like a war zone. And Tim would know. He had  _ been _ in a  _ lot _ of war zones. Tim was beginning to think he had been misinformed at his level of baking ineptitude. 

He had been miserably texting Dick all day about it and, as the only  _ kind _ member of their eccentric family, Dick could sympathize with Tim's predicament. Not that it stopped him from teasing Tim endlessly and giving him  _ terrible  _ advice to follow. " _ Why _ would you…?" Kon fumbled for words, distress on his face. 

Clearly, he was rethinking  _ ever _ asking Tim out on a date. 

Tim too, was rethinking every decision he had made in his life that had lead him to that one  _ specific  _ moment. 

"Dick said to!" Tim insisted like the only child he had  _ technically  _ always been up until a few years ago. 

" _ Dick?! _ " Kon's voice went high enough to break the sound barrier. 

Tim dropped his flour covered hands in his hair and moaned into his palms. "I can't  _ do this _ ." 

"Okay," Kon took a deep, calming breath and dropped his big hands onto Tim's smaller shoulders and squeezed. "Okay, Timmers. I've seen you defuse a bomb with a shoelace." 

"Well yeah, that was  _ easy _ ." 

Kon blinked in annoyed astonishment and then shook the thoughts out of his head. His fingers brushed lightly through the waywards strands of hair that had escaped Tim's tight bun on the back of his head and brushed a kiss to his temple. "Babe, cooking is just  _ chemistry _ ." His voice rumbled through the hollow of Tim's throat. "You literally have a doctorate in chemistry." 

"I know how it all  _ should _ work." Tim gestured to the mess on the counter. "But… but…" 

"The execution, dude, yeah." Kon laughed and then sighed at Tim's frown, his thumb digging into the corner of his cheek until Tim met his eyes. "So you can't bake?" Kon shrugged. "Who cares? I can do the baking for us and our farm of children." 

"I'm too pretty for a farm." Tim whined, but they both knew he was joking. He nudged Kon's hip with his own. "Children, huh?" 

"A whole farm of them." 

"I could just  _ buy _ cookies." 

"Ma would make me clean the cow stables for seven years straight." 

"That's ridiculous. I'll pay Jason to make them." 

"And poison our family?" 

"He would  _ never _ ," Tim fixed Kon with a look. The jab towards Jason was mostly in fun, but Kon  _ did _ hold a resentment towards the older man. It was much the same as Tim's dislike of Lex Luthor, and, at times, Clark Kent. It came from a protective instinct - Tim and Kon had been through so much together that it was sometimes hard to forgive those that had hurt the others so much. Kon disliked Jason for the numerous attempts to murder Tim once he came back, Tim understood it. But he didn't always like it. His problems with Jason were his and his alone, and if he chose to forgive him - and he had - that was only up to him to do. Kon wouldn't try to stop their brotherly, bordering best friend, relationship, just like Tim wouldn't try to make Kon get along with him. "He respects Ma, baking, and Alfred too much." 

Kon snorted. "How about you clean up these dishes," he pointed at the ones on the counter. "And I'll get started on a new batch." 

"Three strikes and you're out?" 

"The American way." Tim stood on his tip toes and kissed Kon on the corner of the mouth with a roll of his eyes and turned on the water. Kon stared for a moment before moving back to the task at hand. "I can trust you with cookie cutters, yeah?" 

"Of course!" 

He could not. 

To be fair, Tim didn't do a  _ terrible _ job with the cookie cutters but he didn't do great either. He genuinely didn't know how he kept messing up so badly. Kon, at least, found Tim's frustration over it adorable. 

They came out edible, though and Ma seemed absolutely impressed when she saw them. 

"She's going to tell the ladies it was a kid that did them." 

" _ I'm _ a kid." Tim insisted. 

Kon laughed, his deep and loud laugh that set Tim's cheeks a flame. "You're  _ nineteen _ , Tim." 

" _ You're  _ a child." 

" _ I'm _ nineteen." 

"Technically you're like nine." 

"And you can't bake. How about  _ that _ , Timothy Drake." 

"I  _ can _ kick your ass though, Superboy." 

"Bring it, Red Robin." 


End file.
